


Just One Kiss

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:32:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it came down to it, he only wanted one kiss, to appease his mind. He wouldn't complain if more followed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One Kiss

 

I knew from the moment I'd popped out of that tomato box that we'd be friends. Out in that forest, in the midst of battle, there was no possible way that we could be sworn enemies. Even after he captured me, I was positive he wasn't as bad as he acted. He had treated me coldly in those times but that was who he was, nothing more. Germany was a strict nation, but once you got to the heart, things seemed a little more...calm. He was responsible, a no nonsense man; I knew that from the vigorous training he put me and Japan through every morning. Yet even through that awful training, I found it hard to hate the country. I was content with being his friend, being by his side, being the one to wave the white flag in our little group.

 

After a while though...I realized something new. I couldn't put my finger on it at first or when it even started--maybe when I realized I didn't want him to forget me, when Russia was joining our alliances. That seemed logical, which felt like an accomplishment for me; I certainly wasn't the thinker of this group, especially on feelings. My feelings usually consisted of the feeling to run whenever threatened, my love of pasta, and my confusion on how Japan acted when I hugged him. To this day that still baffled me. These feelings were different though. They weren't in the sense that I wanted to protect Germany--not as a main feeling anyway--or even as a brother, like I did with Romano--though sometimes I wondered if he thought the same of me, with all the yelling and hitting he did to me. This feeling, this emotion, for my blonde friend was a pure, unaltered, primal feeling, honest and true through and through. It changed my views on certain things--I _would_ run into battle, amongst British guns and French cannons and even against my own people, to save him; it might take a few tries since I'm really not the best trained country when it comes to warfare, but I'd do it.

 

Eventually, I asked big brother France for some sort of help or advice on this; he was an expert on feelings, in some sense of the meaning. I sighed as he gushed at me over the phone, babbling even more than I did about love and how Germany would blow a gasket when I finally worked up the courage to tell him. I tried to ask Romano about it--which was such a brilliant idea at the time, him being my brother and this apparently being my first love that I remembered--but as always, I got a "Shut the hell up, I'm trying to stay away from you! You and that potato loving bastard!" Once again, I sighed, going to my last resort, but Japan's traditions and ideals were just...really complicated and confusing. I couldn't understand half of it and I kept getting distracted--and not just because I have an abnormally short attention span---

 

\--- _Pasta sounds good right now..._

 

The frequent revolts from mine and even Greece's cats weren't helping my attention span either.

 

Even with all of that, I just couldn't focus even when Germany snapped his fingers, shouted at me or grumbled German profanities in quick successions. My mind kept wandering every time I was with him--which was nearly always--from his hard eyes that went softer as he realized I wasn't paying attention again, to his broad shoulders and the thick veins in his neck as he turned his head to me, to his chest beneath the either loose shirt in the morning or the tight military uniform during battle training. I'd even ventured to go more than a little lower than his bust, gulping as I thought of sculptures back from Renaissance times in Europe and Italy, even back to when Grandpa Rome was still here. Germany himself wasn't helping this sudden attraction either--one time he'd held my hand and still occasionally did so, and he didn't scold me for sleeping in his bed after a nightmare or from my sleep walking. 

 

And he _always_ came to my rescue if I called. Even just to tie my shoes for me, he loyally came to my aid.

 

I tried to use this to fuel some sort of fire in my mind, spark a light to tell him how I felt, to repay him in some way, but like with my letter when Russia was around, I couldn't speak more than a word. My throat tightened, my heart pounded and I felt like a mouse looking into the jaws of a lion. If you compared our sizes--both in body and as countries--that wasn't actually too far off of a good analogy. More like a dog than a mouse but--

 

I'd even tried practicing my words in Italian, English, even attempted the hard vowels of German, _and_ in front of the mirror to help me get comfortable with it. It hadn't worked, to say the least. I was ready to raise my white flag on this battle too, my own inner battle, but decided to try France one last time. The country simply told me, at the end of my tale, "Actions speak louder than words, Italy." In a way, it made sense. Actions always got through to the people, especially if words did not--isn't that why we went to war? Although that was a really...discouraging analogy to make, it was what fit best right now.

 

Fueled by _this_ logic now, I found myself in my current position: lips pressed firmly against another pair in an awkward joining, hands clinging almost desperately to broad shoulders and staring into the widest and most confused eyes I'd ever seen on the German. Not exactly what I had in mind--probably not what France did when he told me about my actions--but it got the point across without any stammering or misunderstanding. Although, it was apparently hard to misinterpret me when in person. In country? In person, I suppose.

 

Then came the doubts. I remembered that this _was_ a country; it was a country with different rules, different customs, different actions, like Japan's entire rules on even hugging. It was like the equivalent of American rape with the way he acted--or at least some sort of sexual activity. I'd focused so hard on just telling him, that I forgot to think about how he'd react. What if I offended him? Worse than that, what if he didn't accept my feelings because of that, or to begin with? As I pulled away, more thoughts than I could handle swirled deep inside my head, tugging up my figurative white flag again. I started coming up with some sort of excuse--a dare from England, a little too much wine from Romano, something to explain the outburst. 

 

_Why would I lie to him though? Why would I feel so ashamed of something that's natural?_

 

No. If he asked, I'd tell him, head on, that I loved him. That's what this feeling was, after all.

 

He asked. Slowly, he said only two words to me when I finally let my death grip go. "Italy...why?" The question at least told me that he wasn't...outwardly mad about it. He wasn't yelling, kicking, screaming those awful profanities at me, but then again, it _was_ Germany--he was stoic country. He didn't show emotions or feelings, not in front of others like I constantly did. He kept them locked away in his silence.

 

"I...just wanted one kiss." It wasn't the reply I was looking for, but again, it still got my message across. My voice was still quiet though, so I wondered if I'd even said it, let alone if the blonde heard me. I looked up at him, my fingers pressing together a little nervously. I felt like at any moment I'd get scolded for what I did, what it implied, what it _meant_. I let out a sad, discouraged, "Ve..."

 

His reaction told me that he'd heard loud and clear. "You only wanted one kiss?"

 

I was shocked, to say the least of it. "...can I have more?"

 

The silence was more than deafening. I could feel the tension and anticipation passing in the air between us. Blood rushed in my ears; heat pulsed into my veins; my heart was pounding faster in my throat, filling my own silence with a quickstep I couldn't keep up to. I couldn't breathe, think, or move. Everything seemed to stop as I stood there, before my love, and _waited_.

 

And then there were lips on mine again, kissing me with vigor; hands resting on my back and pulling me closer. My eyes actually opened with the surprise of it all, melted gold hues staring back into the pale blue ones. All the air that had remained in my lungs from just a few moments ago felt like it was being forced out as I processed what was happening.

 

He kissed me.

 

He kissed me _back_.

 

_Germany kissed me back!_

 

Before I knew it, the kiss had actually ended. My hands were wrapped behind the country's neck, our faces still so close together. Breath mingled, hands clenched and unclenched protectively, a want and desire stirred where there was once tension. Adrenaline pumped alongside the heat that pooled all over my body, under my skin, from the tips of my fingers to the ends of toes. It made my entire body tingle.

 

"Do you still only want just one kiss?"

 

I shook my head, slowly, our noses rubbing together as I did so. I snorted lightly then felt my cheeks flush from embarrassment of the noise. Germany chuckled at me--he always said I was cute. He said it now too. My eyes shut again as we caught our breath, just open enough for me to see where I was going. Even if half the time I didn't know that anyway. What was the fun in knowing where you were going? Even now I didn't know how far this would go--if we would only kiss today or if we would do the naughty things France and England did. Both sounded appealing, each in their own way, but I didn't mind whichever it went. I was content just being able to share my feelings with the one I loved after so long.

 

A light peck to my lips and the heat rose once again.

 

_**-The Next Morning-** _

 

"France? They may be strict...but those Germans have a _lot_ of stamina!"

 

I grinned at the stammering on the other side of the phone, knowing how my big brother took the context of my words. Considering I was out of breath, I didn't blame him, but I was only talking about our morning training like always.

 

_**Fin~** _


End file.
